Under the Moon
by Naisumi
Summary: I'll forever love you--even in your doom; we'll always be together because we're both under the moon. Otherwise known as *gasp!* Nai wrote a nonslash fic?! Jean and Scott?!? (deathfic) Er...semi-Jean/Scott, anyway. More like, Scott/Jean and Jean--EVIL!


Title: Under the Moon 

Pairing: Scott/Jean 

Author: Naisumi 

Rating: R 

Disclaimer: You've _got_ to be kidding...^.~ 

Archive: If you want, but could you tell me at least? 

Warnings: Deathfic 

  


Notes: A dark little ficlet I wrote in an IM box with Morwen ^^;; Have fun! And this is not even spell checked >.  


Additional Notes: NOT BETAD! ^^ 

Enjoy, and please give me C&C!!! 

  


"blah." People speak 

-- uh...scene switch 

  


  


-- 

  


"...But then it all happened the ever dreadful day. Somebody tried to rape you and now I'll make him pay. You pointed him out to me my thoughts began to race. I took my daddy's 45 and shot him in the fuckin' face I did it all for you and though I'm facin' years I would do the time just to equal all your tears..." 

~ICP, Under the Moon 

_He crept closer to the wall, clinging to the damp coldness with trembling bone-thin fingers through thick, coarse cloth. There was nothing to see, nothing to hide in the damp stone box of a cell; nothing think about except memories and 'what if's. In the darkness of his eyelids and the blinding ruby quartz canvas before his gaze, he could see imagined emerald eyes, coral lips mouthing loving words. He reached up, tried to tear off the redness with an inhuman cry escaping his lips, but found his arms plastered to his sides like wooden splints dead to the world. Another noise from within his throat, and he shifted, leaning his head against the grimy wall and banging it back against its filth and rock, memories pouring back into his thoughts with the sight of the lone light bulb dangling from the ceiling, glowing like a hazy ruby moon..._

The snow fluttered down around him as he sat on the stone bench, elbows resting on knees bent uncertainly. Giving his head a slight toss, he rubbed at his scarlet shades with his middle and index fingers, trying to clear off the pinkish-red snowflakes that resided there. 

"Scott," He turned at the sound of his name and smiled as he saw Jean coming up the hill toward him, polyester jacket a dark red through his shades. Scott stood up, his arms wrapped about himself as he tried to keep warm, or as if he were trying to cradle the burgeoning tender feeling within himself. She reached him and draped one arm around his shoulder, bringing him closer and kissing him sweetly, imposing the picture of herself in his mind, all diamond clarity and bright colors like Saturday television. 

"Sorry I'm a bit late," she said, whispering in his ear before leading him back to the bench and sitting down beside him, pressed up close. 

"It's alright," Scott assured her, loving the healthy sunlit glow of her, the adoring shade of summer green sparkling as her eyes, the brightly gleaming wetness of her soft pink lips. He could see her in his thoughts, where she placed the vision of her with a gentle caress of invisible fingertips. He could see the world. 

_He leaned his temple against the slick stone surface of the wall, a high-pitched laugh escaping cracked lips. He could still feel the cold weight in the palm of his hand, could still feel the all-encompassing anger--the _deadly_ anger--woven in his thoughts as he saw _him_._

"Scott!" Jean leaned against him, curtain of sinfully silky hair cascading against his neck like satin water. He brought his arms up to circle her, hugging her close as she trembled. In that instant, he couldn't help but marvel at how delicate she looked, how fragile and easily breakable. Scott held her close, and felt a tight hard knot in his throat, choking him, as she began to cry. 

"What's wrong? Jean...come on, tell me..." he coaxed, feeling the overwhelming desire to cradle her close forever and protect her from everything. 

"I...I'm sorry," Jean quivered, her beautiful ivory face streaked with tears, and he gently tucked a strand of copper crimson hair behind her ear, stroking away the trails of wetness with his thumb. 

"What happened?" 

_He wanted to scream, to gouge out his eyes so as to banish his sight to memories. Instead, he just writhed, ducking his head and whimpering with the violence of emotion that was smoldering in the core of his being. Stilling briefly, he thought he could almost discern the faint scent of lilies threaded in the musky smell of mildew that permeated the cell._

Scott looked over at him, a haze of crimson different from his ruby visor obscuring his view. Jean's words echoed in his mind as he stared at him, a throbbing heat surging through his veins; 'Scott...that's him. He's the one who raped me.' 

_"He's the one...He was the one who raped you..." He trembled, digging his heels into the sooty ground, a searing headache blinding his vision, "the one who..."_

He stood up, stared down at the pooling liquid warmth. Smoke rose from the barrel of the gun like the vapors of a ghost. The blood continued slowly edging outward, devouring the cement like a living thing. The redness reminded him of Jean's hair, beautiful, lovely, warm to the touch. He smiled. 

Lance was dead. 

Jean was avenged. 

The judge pounded his gavel and looked at him, his eyes grim. Scott looked back, trying to ignore the muffled sobs coming from the three boys behind the prosecution stand. Instead, he turned to look at Jean, the betrayed looks the Professor and everyone else was giving him no longer mattering. She smiled at him, something in her jade eyes not quite right, and whispered, "It'll be alright..." 

_He stared sightlessly at the flickering light bulb, watching the misty red brightness of it, not noticing as the jail guard slid a tray of stale food toward him before closing the door again. Leaning back, he closed his eyes, feeling the same trembling, suffocating heat inside him, festering to a boil._

He sat staring at the glass window, watching the unopened letters piling up as they returned to him. There was no one on the other side. Jean hadn't visited him; not after the court hearing, not ever. His hands began to tremble as he gripped the counter hard, thoughts swirling chaotically in his mind. 

What if she was married now? It had been three years. What if she had forgotten? What if the promises she had made meant nothing? What if she had _forgotten_? 

_He thrashed against the hardness of the stone floor, trying to stop the pain of heartbeats echoing in his head, providing a counter-metronome to the frantic staccato tempo of his thoughts. Trembling, he turned to stare at the flashing light bulb. _

As the brightness died, Scott whispered into the black night, the imprint of a red moon in his mind, repeating a broken promise from long ago, "I'll forever love you even in your doom...we'll always be together because...we're both under the moon." 

~fin~ 

"I justified your pain 

but now I sit alone 

I write another letter 

I write one everyday 

I never got a letter back 

I write 'em anyway 

I try to call collect 

your number has been changed 

I'm starin' at the light bulb and I start to feel deranged 

You never came to visit me 

I sit facin' the glass 

No one's on the other side and now it's in the past 

My head is always spinnin' 

I'm poundin' on the wall 

I feel like I'm forgotten 

no sign of you at all..." 


End file.
